


One Shot - Bloody Wings

by TheAngelThyla



Series: New Avengers: Heroes of Tomorrow [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, I promise, It ends okay, Pre-Series, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, This was too painful for words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngelThyla/pseuds/TheAngelThyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James isn't dealing with being a mutant so well and he knows he can't hide his wings from his parents any longer...</p><p>Set Pre-Story</p><p>Note: Please, please, PLEASE don't ever do anything to yourself. If you ever have the urge to, get help fast! There are a whole array of hotlines you can call!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Shot - Bloody Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I hated writing this but it needed to be done. Please forgive me?  
> Here's the Tumblr where I post updates and what I'm researching: http://theangelthyla.tumblr.com/

James stood in front of the bathroom sink wetting a rag with antiseptic.  
 _I have to do it. I have to do it._  
His wings twitched with anticipation underneath the belt that held them tightly against his back. Or was that fear?  
He readied the trash bag and laid it on the toilet before spreading the old newspapers on the floor to soak up the blood. There was going to be a lot of blood...  
James slowly removed the belt and laid it on the counter next to the rag and picked up the garden shears, carefully maneuvering them over where his left wing met his back.  
He could see himself from behind in the mirror that he'd rigged opposite from the mirror above the sink, shaking and pale. In front of him, he saw in the mirror his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He saw the face a boy who was afraid.  
 _I can't do it._  
The 13-year old stood there shaking for the longest time, garden shears poised to strike, until a sharp knock came to the door.  
"James?" His mother's voice called. "Honey, you're teachers called. They said you didn't come to school, this morning. Are you alright?"  
 _She's not supposed to be here._ James yanked the shears over his head and back to the counter, snipping the top of the joint and causing him to gasp as he answered his mom.  
"I'm fine," James lied, voice shaking and squeaky. "Just give me a sec." He scrambled to hide the various knives he had laid out on the counter along with the antiseptic and bandages.  
"James?" The doorknob shook, proving to be locked. "James, open the door. Open the door right now." His mother's voice shook.  
"Just a second!" Tears started to roll down the boy's cheek and his voice wavered even more.  
The door was kicked in and James was left standing there, in front of the sink, bloody shears in hand and blood streaming down his back. That cut was a lot deeper than he thought it was.  
  


* * *

  
  
Natasha had begun to panic at the tears she heard in her son's voice but that was nothing compared to the sight she found after kicking in the door.  
James stood there, shirt off and what looked like half-grown wings sprouting from his back. He held garden shears in one hand and there was an array of other sharp objects scattered on the counter, some shoved under a rag in an attempt to hide them.  
But the site that made her move was the slow river of blood dripping to the floor behind James.  
Natasha rushed to her son's side and lead him to the toilet where she sat him down. She pulled a hand towel from the basket on the back and pressed it to the wound at the top of his left wing.  
 _Severed brachial artery, top of the humerus?_  
Natasha was close to hyperventilating but she leveled her breathing and knelt next to her son, never releaving pressure on the wound.  
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"  
 _Why didn't you tell me you had wings?_  
  


* * *

  
  
James couldn't look at his mother, he was too ashamed.  
"Please don't send me away." Fresh tears began to spill and James dropped his face to hide in his hands.  
He felt his mother pull him into a hug, or as close to one as she could without taking her hand from his injured wing. That really was worse than he thought.  
"I would _never_ send you away," his mother whispered into his hair. "I love you so much, _golubchik_."  
James flung his arms around his mother's waist and just cried. They sat there for a good five minutes until he realized he was getting lightheaded.  
He pulled back a bit, still clinging to his mother's arms with one hand but wiped away his tears with the other.  
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he whispered. "I should've told you. I was just..."  
"You were just scared," she finished for him. James felt a tear slide down his cheek as he sniffed and looked down at the floor.  
His mother tilted his head back up and looked him directly in the eyes, and he saw a fury in her eyes that was both comforting and frightening.  
"It's okay to be scared, James. But don't ever again, in your whole life, think that I would send you away for something like this."  
He nodded, holding eye contact until his vision began to blur and his body started to sway.  
He felt his mother's free hand on his shoulder, holding him steady.  
"You've lost a lot of blood so I'm going to take you to a hospital, alright?"  
James shook his head, causing a new wave of disorientation and nausea to sweep over him.  
"No, no hospitals," his vision faded in and out of focus so he closed his eyes. "Please don't take me to a hospital."  
  


* * *

  
  
Natasha was confused at her son's words. She held the towel (which was slowly soaking through) to his back and could obviously tell that he needed stitches in the vein, as well as on the actual wing.  
"Why? Why no hospital?"  
She had to strain to hear his next words, so quiet and slightly slurred.  
"I don't want everyone knowing I'm a deformed freak."  
Natasha almost forgot about his wound and shook him, deciding instead to cup his jaw and make him focus on her.  
"Listen to me, very, very carefully," she growled. "You are _not_ a 'deformed freak' and I don't want you ever using those words again."  
James faltered a nod but still couldn't seem to focus his eyes.  
"Now I won't take you to a public hospital but you _are_ going to a doctor." Natasha helped her son to his feet and slung his arm around her shoulders, keeping pressure on his wound.  
  


* * *

  
  
James sat on his bed, his mother and father on either side of him.  
It had been a week since "The Incident," as he referred to it in his head.  
His mother had taken him to a SHIELD medical center; specifically for agents in the field, but she'd pulled a few strings. The doctors had outfitted him with a special harness (similar to his belt, but less constricting and not potentially dangerous) and stitched him up with instructions to not move his wing but keep it loose and not lift anything heavy for at least two or three months.  
Now he sat with both his parents in his room and a brochure for a school in his lap.  
"Do I have to go?" He hadn't hardly talked so his voice was rough from the disuse. "You- you said you wouldn't send me away?" He refused to make eye contact and instead kept his eyes trained on the brochure.  
"We're not sending you away," his mother pulled him to her side. "We just want you to have the opportunity to go to a school that will help you adjust to your new abilities."  
James read the name of the school again: _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. A school for freaks if I ever saw one._  
"Sam goes there during the summer break," his father interjected.  
Sam was James' older cousin. His parents had found out he was telekinetic and sent him off every summer since.  
"You could stay in school here in New York during the school year and go during the summer until you're more comfortable," his mom suggested.  
James looked her in the eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.  
"Okay."  
  


* * *

  
  
A month later was the start of the summer vacation and James, ever a man of his word, ended up at the school.  
As it turned out, many of the students never left after the school year let out and continued to take the summer classes. And no student was a "Summer Student" or a "Proper Student." They were all just... Students. Their rooms were waiting for them whenever they decided to come back and they could jump into the classes at almost any time.  
James had learned this information when his parents had driven him the hour it took to get to the campus.  
Now he found himself heading back to his room to unpack before meeting the Professor, like all the students did.  
His father laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  
"It's going to be fine," he comforted.  
James turned and tried to smile but it didn't reach his eyes.  
They reached his room and his father set his duffel on the bed while his mother did the same with the backpack.  
"Now, you're sure this is all you need? Because we can bring whatever you need at any time," his mom insisted for the thousandth time.  
"I'm fine, mom." James rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner.  
"Alright, then, I guess we'll see you when we come to pick you up." His dad pulled him into a hug that James greedily reciprocated, his mother joining the family hug. Well, sans Danny and newborn baby Elizabeth who were left back home with a babysitter.  
The parents and son said their goodbyes and the adults began to walk out the door before James' mother turned back and pulled him into another hug.  
"Don't forget," she whispered in his ear before leaving. "You always were my little angel."

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, kudos, whatever.  
> I'm too heartbroken to make a witty remark...


End file.
